A/N: This is my first fic, so I'm still figuring out how publishing and such works. I have no beta, so I alone have edited this. If you catch anything, let me know and I'll try to fix it. This first chapter is a bit short, but I already have over half of the next chapter done. I hope you enjoy it! Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Update: My apologies for letting this story just sit for three years. I'm not going to promise that I'm going to be able to keep it up at a regular pace now, between school, an ongoing health problem, and some difficult personal issues I don't have a lot of time, but I'm going to try. To be perfectly honest, I don't remember exactly where I was going with this story. I'm starting by editing/expanding what I already wrote and working on a rough outline of what happens next.

"Sirius, you okay, mate?" James asked the boy sitting on the next bed over, who had been staring intently at the same spot on the wall for the past ten minutes.

"Hmmm?" Sirius looked up, snapping back to reality. "What did you say?" James didn't respond. "I guess I zoned out a bit there."

"Yeah, I guess you could say a bit," James responded. "Come on, let's head down for breakfast, and on the way, you can tell me all about that fascinating wall…"

The pair stayed quiet for a few moments, walking to the kitchen of the Potters' house. After Sirius had become officially estranged from his family in his fifth year at Hogwarts, it was only logical that he move in with his best mate, James Potter, whose parents felt more like family than his own ever could. Although he wished daily for a way to change it, Sirius was still a Black, even if in name and blood only. It was he who broke the silence.

"I had the nicest dream last night. It was really one of those that you just don't want to wake up from, you know?"

"Who was she this time?" James asked with a sigh, realizing he knew his friend far too well.

"I didn't recognize her as anyone I knew, but the image of her face is still burned in my mind. What stood out most were her smile and her hair. Her hair, it was so soft, and the most brilliant shade of red…." James stiffened slightly at the mention of the girl's hair color. It was a well-known fact that James Potter had been mooning over Lily Evans, a certain redheaded Gryffindor in the same year as James and Sirius, for the past few years now. Noticing how uncomfortable James had become, Sirius quickly added, "It wasn't Lily, you know. Her hair was darker, almost auburn, and this girl had curves. No offense to Lily or anything." At hearing this, James relaxed.

"So you really don't know who she was?" Sirius shook his head. "Well, which house's robes was she wearing?"

"She wasn't wearing robes."

"If it's one of those dreams, I really don't think I need to hear the rest…."

"No, I just meant that she was wearing muggle clothes. It actually wasn't like that at all. We were just sitting together and talking, and I was stroking her hair. That was all, nothing sexual, but it was the happiest dream I've ever had."

James looked at his friend with an expression that fell somewhere between amusement and confusion. "I think we need to get you some action," he told his friend while laughing softly.

"—And your mum will go absolutely berserk if we don't finish getting those flower arrangements together, I don't even know where we should start, but it all needs to get done soon seeing as the wedding is tomorrow. What do you think?" Hermione asked the girl whose room she was sharing.

"Sorry, wasn't really listening, could you repeat the last bit?"

"Ginny, are you okay? You're usually more awake than this by now. I realize we did just spend two hours polishing silver, but still."

"I guess I drifted off …" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I was just thinking about a dream I had last night." Hermione relaxed a bit.

"Good, I got worried that you had been spending a bit too much time with Luna for a moment."

Ginny hesitated slightly before continuing. "It was about a boy. He had this dark, shaggy hair – "

"You're not still dreaming about Harry, are you?" Hermione asked, once again raising her eyebrows, although this time her expression was slightly more empathetic.

"No, I've never seen him before. I suppose I just dreamed him up, which is a bit sad, really. Although he did look a bit like… no, never mind, that doesn't make sense." Hermione gave her friend a quizzical look, but decided not to press the matter. Ginny returned to her thoughts of the boy, who reminded her a bit too much of someone she had once known. She was certainly attracted to his rebellious, carefree nature, but her memory of the dream consisted of them talking to each other. Just talking, nothing more.

"So, how about those flower arrangements?"

The mysterious redheaded girl continued to appear in Sirius's dreams, which were all more or less the same. They sat and talked. Sometimes she would cry on his shoulder, and he would stroke her hair. Sometimes they laughed. But mostly, they sat, just being together.

Upon waking, Sirius could never remember what they'd talked about, which only bothered him insomuch as he hoped their conversations might provide some clue as to her identity. He was convinced that she had an identity, though, despite the utter lack of evidence. There was something about the dreams, something about her that made him believe she was real. Sirius mentioned this to James once. His theory was met with a slight look of concern. James didn't say much one way or the other, trying not to discredit the possibility that Sirius could be right. However, Sirius could tell that his friend was growing worried that he was spending far too much time dwelling on dreams.

After that interaction, Sirius never brought up his theories again and made a point of leaving out the fact that the girl occasionally cried in all subsequent mentions of the dreams—any worry that James had about the dreams now would be eclipsed with a true panic if he learned their full range of emotions. It wasn't exactly like Sirius to comfort girls while they cried. In fact, he actively avoided getting himself into situations where a girl might feel crying was acceptable. The environment in which he'd grown up hadn't exactly been conducive to learning how to healthily deal with one's emotions and he'd simply never found a reason to figure it out since. For this reason, Sirius was almost as concerned as James would have been had he known. It wasn't a particularly comforting thought that the most emotionally mature interactions he'd had were just in his head with a person who, try as he might to deny it, didn't even exist.